


Hooked

by stephanericher



Category: Kuroko no Basuke | Kuroko's Basketball
Genre: Alternate Universe - Hockey, Foursome - M/M/M/M, Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-01
Updated: 2017-08-01
Packaged: 2018-12-09 22:58:15
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,068
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11678850
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stephanericher/pseuds/stephanericher
Summary: It’s not like the rest of them haven’t been missing Daiki, too; it’s not like Daiki hasn’t been alone this whole time, but Taiga gets it.





	Hooked

**Author's Note:**

> ......this desert hockey stuff should have its own series by now but i'm way too lazy to go back  & do that 
> 
> anyway this stands on its own (or it should) with the knowledge that in this verse kagahimu on ari & aomura on vgk

Taiga’s come home to find some weird shit before. The neighbor’s cat clawing at their screen (until Tatsuya had picked it up and cooed at it before taking it right back home), the (most of the time) unnecessary gutter hanging off the roof. Atsushi, unexpected on the couch, is not in that number.

“Team’s on the east coast,” says Atsushi, when Taiga opens his mouth. “I’m bored.”

“We’re leaving next week,” says Taiga. 

Atsushi hasn’t had an easy time of it this year, league-max shots against until he’d fucked up his ACL going for something that should have been blocked in front. His leg’s still in a cast (flying like that must have been awfully fun, but Taiga’s insides do a little something when he realizes Atsushi had still done it, to be here with them) and he’s still got a while before he’ll be back on the ice; the Golden Knights have kind of picked up their game around him but still kind of wobbling around the bottom of the bubble and now they’re away, taking Daiki with them. 

Atsushi sighs and turns up the volume on the television; Tatsuya’s got his phone out already and Taiga’s pretty sure he’d just snapped a picture. Taiga looks over his shoulder; he’s sending it to Daiki, captioned “I think you left something here”. 

Shit, they’d been planning on having chicken salad for dinner but Atsushi doesn’t really like it--he’d been the one who’d shown up out of the blue, but still. Taiga sighs and runs a hand through his hair. 

“Go out for dinner?”

“I did that every night last week,” says Atsushi.

“Chicken salad okay?” says Taiga.

“Only if Tatsuya makes it. You put too much celery in yours.”

“Excuse you,” says Taiga. 

But Tatsuya’s smiling, pleased about the comparison even if it’s probably just for the sake of arguing (not that Taiga wouldn’t mind not making dinner after a practice like today’s, even if it’s something this lowkey and for both of them).

* * *

It’s good to have Atsushi there during the season, something Taiga had known he was missing but not like this, not so concretely (he’d know what it feels like to be with Atsushi on a game night, a home-and-home, in the offseason, but not in and out during the season, a presence for him and Tatsuya to fall back on after a difficult game, after being stressed with each other because of dumb team shit, even with the lack of media pressure out here). Atsushi referees their one-on-ones in the yard, giving Tatsuya clear advantages; Tatsuya takes them and it’s hard not to feel like it’s really a two-on-one. But then Tatsuya will give him a certain kind of hip-check, skate in a circle around him (sure, Taiga’s faster and stronger but Tatsuya’s got all the finesse of a figure skater, all that quick spinning, the hairpin turns of a competitive speed skater, sureness on skates even more than he has on his feet and he doesn’t even walk like a hockey player that much, fucking unfair). 

Atsushi won’t come to the games, and Taiga gets it. Being injured sucks, and being injured and showing up at another team’s game is going to get all those talking heads on CBC talking about Atsushi’s work ethic all over again, blah blah blah nice Canadian boys. But it’s not like Atsushi’s not going hard in PT; it’s not like he’s ever really been lazy beyond appearances. He doesn’t seem to think it’s a bad thing, even though it makes him seem less valuable, make less money. 

“They can give me easy bonuses, though,” says Atsushi. “Why does it bug you?”

“Because,” Taiga says, and it’s a whole slew of things, a bucket full of pucks, because Atsushi deserves better, because he is better, because he doesn’t like hearing people say that shit about Atsushi and it hurts him, too. 

“Not everything’s that kind of honor-defending bullshit,” says Atsushi. “I don’t need you to like, fight for me; if someone’s giving me shit I’ll trip them myself.”

Taiga sighs; it’s not the point except maybe a little, so what if he’s hit that one d-man on a fucking east coast team who’d talked shit about “lazy goaltenders like Murasakibara” in the media? He’d do the same for Tatsuya or Daiki; he has done the same (and Tatsuya’s worse about this shit; he’ll drop the gloves with anyone and so what if it means he’s in the box for five and that’s not going to cool his head anymore than being six feet from the frozen surface does).

* * *

The Golden Knights swing their way through Texas and then Arizona as the last leg of their road trip, and Taiga’s not sure who among them is the happiest about this. Daiki’s already gone off on a monologue about living out of a fucking suitcase (not like the rest of them don’t get it) before he falls asleep, face down and smack in the middle of the bed. Even with Atsushi there it had felt a little bit big, a little bit empty; Taiga can adjust well enough when it’s the middle of the season and just him and Tatsuya in the center but this had felt off, uneven, skating on bad ice with dull skates. 

Atsushi doesn’t even need the nap but he’s been taking them through the homestand with Tatsuya and Taiga; he takes it now, his body curled around Daiki’s like a shield, like goalie pads. It’s not like the rest of them haven’t been missing Daiki, too; it’s not like Daiki hasn’t been alone this whole time, but Taiga gets it. Tatsuya flattens himself between Daiki and Taiga, his face in Taiga’s chest, his back against Daiki’s torso, room for Taiga to count the new bruises on Daiki’s arm, some of them almost faded away already. The things he’s missed, but can’t be helped.

“Hey,” Daiki says, quiet and rough like a small for-nothing shove after the whistle. 

“Aren’t you asleep?”

“Almost. You should be, too.”

True enough; they’ve both got to play tonight and then Daiki’s got to take Atsushi back home--except Taiga’s already so used to this place being home for Atsushi, already doesn’t want to give him back up. 

“I’ll trade like ten first-rounders for you two,” says Taiga, and Tatsuya laughs into his chest.

“Shut up, I’m sleeping,” says Atsushi. 


End file.
